


"I need you, John..."

by orphan_account



Series: The Suspense of my Dreams~a JohnLock Fanfiction [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, john watson - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Majorly in Sherlock's perspective, Sherlock tries to confess his love to John, but to be honest, it was harder than he had thought.</p><p>"He was pretty sure he was grinning like an idiot but who cares..it was Sherlock."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unfathomable Daydreams

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like more, keep my posted. ^-^

“All these bloody idiots, and their idiotic cases, I can't handle this, John! These, so called “clients” are wasting my precious time!” Scolded one angry Sherlock, he hated not having a case and everyone knew it, but no crime or any sort of case had emerged except for kids who needs help finding their lost pets and what not. John looks at the frustrated Sherlock and tries his best to sympathize, “Sherlock, just calm down, we'll get a case, you just need to wait, patience is key, ya'know.” Sherlock, calmed down immediately in his head, but he couldn't go down so easily or John would suspect that at just the sound of his voice trying to calm him made him at ease, he tried pushing the thought of John's cooling breath against his neck but he couldn't shake the thought. So he pulled his wits together and stormed off to his room, his dressing gown flailing behind him as he cursed under his breath, mumbling, “Bloody criminals, bloody cases, curse them all..”

 

As Sherlock went mournfully into his room, his thoughts overwhelmed his brain, he couldn't get John, innocent John, out of his mind, the way he acted towards him, Sherlock, the maniac, was falling. He couldn't believe himself, he was sitting here on his bed staring out his window into the dark night sky thinking about, of all people, John... This was unnecessary, un-called for really, although he put on an act so no one would see the true Sherlock, the one that cared all along for John. Sherlock took in a deep breath, John, the ex-military doctor, the one with a hardened heart and stone cold, brown eyes, the eyes that had pulled him in in the first place in the lab. The way John liked to dart his eyes from one thing to another not caring to stop and think about what he was particularly looking at, just quick glimpses, but certain things John stared at, things like the way he read and re-read columns in the newspaper, or if he was thinking he would stare into nothing-ness until he had figured his mind out, and sometimes, Sherlock, would catch John staring at him, his lips to be exact, and when he caught him, he quickly moved his eyes down Sherlock's slender face and neck then down his shoulders in one quick movement until he would be staring at the floor like nothing happened.

 

The thought that John could ever think about him the way he dreamed and thought about John crossed his mind a couple of times but it never actually stayed and made Sherlock contemplate he was pushed it out before he could think intently on it, always assuming that John had no sort of feelings for him, because he was Sherlock, and Sherlock was a maniac who had a life that consisted of reading peoples body language and knowing things he was never supposed to know, but John was different, he knew John, but he didn't “know” him. Or did he? He sat quietly on his bed, with his stippled hands calmly pressed against his chin, his index fingers brushing his mouth as he contemplated all the things running through his head, and there were a lot, but mostly...sweet John...

 

 

John sighed as he flipped off the lamp light and grudgingly climbed the old, rickety stairs until he reached his room, he pushed open the door and toed his shoes off, he quickly changed into pyjamas and slide into bed. He lie there tossing and turning over and over, not only in his bed but in his mind, his thoughts, he couldn't knack the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach, he hated when Sherlock was like this, so bloody difficult to work with. He sighed and pulled the comforter over his head and soon after had fallen asleep, thankfully.

 

 

Sherlock rose early, as his normality presumed, he walked to the bathroom and showered, dressed, and walked into the parlor, he sat down on that familiar couch, the buttons in his purple button up practically begging to be opened. He placed his elbows on his knees and stippled his hands and stared off into oblivion, his arm flexed and that made the shirt worse. He stayed like this, thinking, until John came down and made coffee and then Sherlock had to look, he glanced over to John who had a beige jumper on over a regular tee shirt, he had apparently already showered because you could intensely smell his soap that he used, Sherlock inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, all Sherlock could think about was: bliss. John poured a cup of coffee and walked into the parlor sitting across from Sherlock, he sat back and shifted until he was comfortable and took a small sip of coffee. Sherlock jumped up, exclaiming, “I'm going for a walk, I'll be back.” John nearly choked on his coffee, he regained his composure and nodded softly at Sherlock. He slide his arms into that familiar coat and pulled up the collar, he briskly walked out and down the stairs quickly opening the door into the cool November air, taking a deep breath to clear his head as he walked slowly towards the curb and flagged down a cab to Lestrade’s office.

 

 

John finished his cup of coffee slowly, examining his brain, going through all of his memories of Sherlock, that glorious man, he couldn't keep his eyes and mind off of him, it was getting ridiculous how much that one man could enter his thoughts on a daily routine, he was like a teenage girl and her first love. So much excitement in one girl, he couldn't stand that he was comparing himself to a teenage girl, but all he could think about was Sherlock and how calm and centered he seemed this morning, so calm, unlike last night with his little hissy fit, although John didn't mind this ti was painful to watch Sherlock be so angry, and over what? A case. It was so amusing to him how Sherlock's emotions are so easily detected from the way he acts towards the “human” world. John found Sherlock's emotions adorably amusing, from the way he stippled his hands to way he sat, it was obvious Sherlock was squirming and being drove up the walls but over not having a case? This was new for Sherlock..Sherlock..the name it rolls off your tongue like a tender whisper but has so much passion behind it you can't help but be calmed but terrified at the same time, afraid of what to think about, who to think about, what person possesses the name “Sherlock”? A shiver ran down John's spine remembering his face, blissfully indulging in his face was interrupted than by, none other, Mycroft. Could he not leave him alone for a day? It was always his phone ringing with worried text messages about his brother, how he was doing, what he was doing at the moment, John loved talking about Sherlock, but this was torture. John inhaled short breaths before reaching into his pocket and taking out his phone, but shocked when he saw there was a message from Sherlock in between all those Mycroft messages. John's eyes fluttered across the screen as he read Sherlock's message.

 

_Gone shopping, something I never do. Be back soon. Don't hurt yourself. -SH_

 

John chuckled at the message, imagining Sherlock having gone shopping for once in the whole year they have known each other. He stands up and go sets his mug on the table then returning to the parlor where he sat updating his blog until Sherlock arrived at the flat with a couple of bags and some Chinese food, John was famished he blessed Sherlock thoughtfulness, and stood, stretching.

 

 

After him and John had eaten. Cleaned up their mess, and John out away groceries, Sherlock sat on the couch running his eyes across his laptop reading past criminal case reports, he was bored and his violin didn't seem pleasing to the eye at the moment, he sighed and caught John looking up from his paper at him. He smirked and John shook his head going back to his reading, who knew how long this would go one before they actually got a case. Just then the door buzzed and Sherlock's mouth turned into a grin, seemed they wouldn't have to wait long now. Ms. Hudson opened the door and let the short, small, middle-aged, woman in, she walked quietly up the stairs and walked into the door, as soon as Sherlock laid his eyes on her his grinned quickly faded and he cursed under his breath. There at the door stood John's girlfriend, bloody hell, apparently because there was no case it was alright for John to go back to dating his girlfriend. John set down his paper and rose, he walked to the door and hugged her, kissed her cheek and while pulling on his coat turned towards Sherlock.

“I'll be out a little late tonight, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock mumbled under his breath. Bloody hell. He nodded and went back to his computer screen illuminating his face.

 

“Sherlock, are you alright?”

 

He waved his hand for him to go on, and John sighed, he walked out the door and down the stairs with her right behind him, he shuts the door behind her and they walk into the night sky. All Sherlock can do is run his hands over his face and sigh in exasperation, he lays his computer down and brings his knees close to his chest thinking about poor naïve John and how it angered him to see him with her. He clenches his fists and sighs knowing this will get him nowhere he lets go of his legs and lays back, stretching out onto the couch and thinking about John again, as if he didn't already, but he was always on his mind. Slowly, Sherlock drifts into a deep soothing sleep.

 

 

John unlocks the door and makes the climb up the stairs, he's exhausted and doesn't want to deal with Sherlock, but to his surprise when John walks in he sees Sherlock lying on the couch, asleep, he picks up a blanket and lays it over him, John sighs and toes his shoes off kicking them away, he pulls his jacket off and walks up the stairs into his rooms. He's so exhausted he doesn't even take his clothes off, he just falls into bed and rests his head on his pillow and drifts off, hoping everything with Sherlock was alright. God, he thought about the gloriousness of that man more than anything and it was starting to affect him, just moments before he moaned Sherlock's name instead, and that was never good in a relationship, especially when he didn't want to be shagging her anyway, it was just to please her and to top it off he moaned “Sherlock” instead..bloody hell..John sighs and turns over closing his eyes and falling into a sleep, praying he never woke up from this brilliant dream about Sherlock. He was pretty sure he was grinning like an idiot but who cares..it was Sherlock.

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 1.

 


	2. A Christmas Disaster.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas and Sherlock and John exchange gifts with Molly, Lestrade, and Ms. Hudson, things get heated between Molly and Sherlock, and John gets drunk. What a lovely ending.

Sherlock arose and sighed, today was Christmas Eve, the day before what he'd been hoping wouldn't be real, just a figment of his imagination. He rolls over in the bed, tonight was the night of the bloody party with Molly, Lestrade, Ms. Hudson, and...John, he hadn't even gotten John a gift yet, he didn't know what to buy him. A mug? A new book for his collection that he never read? Or maybe a retched jumper that we would wear every single fall and winter. He sighed and rubbed his eyes before gliding out of bed and started walking to the bathroom, it was not his normal time of getting up but he hadn't slept because of course, it was Christmas Eve. Sherlock jiggled the door knob and opened the door but before he could open the door all the way he was surprised with the yelling of his name from the other side of the door as it slammed back into his face knocking him backwards, loosing his balance, “Sherlock! Jesus, knocking would've been a great heads up..” Sherlock was smirking now, he bit his lower lip and let out a small giggle, “Sorry, John, make your presence known. Might save your life.” Sherlock walked down the stairs to the kitchen with a smirk on his face, John let out a sigh leaning against the door. John had just gotten out of the shower, he was dripping water and had an erection from thinking about Sherlock, he really needed to put an end to this. He reluctantly pulls his clothes on and by then everything had settled down.

Sherlock had returned to his sofa awaiting John's arrival downstairs so he could take his turn in the bath, he sipped on coffee and ran his hand over his face and tried to wake up more, John walked down and saw Sherlock sitting there one elbow on his knee, the other hand running through his messy dark curls and John tried his best not to lose it this early. Sherlock stood up and smiled that devilish smile to John and quickly walked up to the bathroom and began his shower, John sat down in the chair facing away from the sofa and sipped gingerly on his morning coffee, he was thinking about tonight, the party..shit..The party, Sherlock's gift, he hadn't bought anything yet. Bloody hell. He got up after he finished his coffee 5 minutes later, he set down his mug and rummaged through his pocket finding enough money to go shopping for Sherlock, how had he bought everyone a gift except Sherlock? John sighed and walked towards the door sliding his arm into his jacket, then the other, he fixed the collar and pulled his gloves on. It was colder than any other winter and he hated the snow, he zipped up his jacket and fixed his shoe. He started to yell to Sherlock but he popped in the door, “You don't have to shout, I'm right here.” Sherlock was wearing a white button up with a coat over that loosely buttoned in the front, Sherlock pulled on his long jacket and fixed his scarf, John looked away quickly realizing he was staring at this perfect man standing in front of him.  
“I'm going out, Sherlock, I'll see you at the party tonight, don't be late..”

“John, you don't have to buy me anything, suggesting from the way you can't concentrate on anything other than what's bouncing around in that brain of yours, and the lack of presents under our pitiful tree, you don't have to bu me anything.” Sherlock said as he was fixing his gloves and sliding his phone into his inside jacket pocket.

John looked astonished but laughed, “I'm not buying for you, I need to buy for Ms. Hudson.” you could hear the tremble in his voice as he saw Sherlock start to walk out the door.

“Keep telling yourself that, I would like a new scarf, thank you, John.” and just like that Sherlock had taken three-at-a-time steps down the stairs and was out the door before John could say another word. He sighed and walked out after him and when he got outside Sherlock had already gotten a taxi and was gone.

 

The clock read 9, Sherlock placed John's gift under the tree, and started playing his violin as he saw Lestrade and Molly get out of a cab together, John walked down from the sound of Sherlock's violin and Ms. Hudson walks up carrying gifts for Sherlock and John, “Probably Jumpers..” Sherlock pondered as his bow ran across the strings and made a melodic sound as the door downstairs opens and sends a chilling gush of air in and sends a shiver down John's back. Sherlock keeps playing as everyone comes in and shakes off the cold with a cup of warm hot chocolate and a sit by the fire. By 10:00 Sherlock was sitting next to Ms. Hudson, Molly was getting up to pass around her gifts and Sherlock sees a box wrapped in shiny red paper, wrapped with a ribbon, and notices all the other gifts are poorly wrapped. Sherlock laughs slightly and everyone looks over. “Oh I'm sorry I'm just noticing that all of Molly's presents are horrible wrapped and yet that one small box with a ribbon is obviously for her boyfriend, I mean look at her, shes dressed in a tight white dress, you're wearing shoes that look too uncomfortable for you and are having trouble walking, you have stuff all over your face and that lip gloss..why? It looks pathetic.” Sherlock looks around and everyone is trying not to be angry and look disappointed in Sherlock, Molly had tears welling up in her eyes and h reaches down grabbing the present that Sherlock mentioned, and shoves it into his chest. Only then does Sherlock notice it says “Sherlock” in beautiful cursive on the name tag, he looks down his mouth slightly gaped open, he doesn't know what to do or how to react, he leans down slightly and lifts Molly's chin, he wipes her tears away and kisses her mouth softly, he pulls away and leans down to her ear, “Thank you, I'm sorry.” Sherlock takes the gift and walks past her and out the door going upstairs to his room, he shuts his door, filled with guilt.

John and Lestrade had went out drinking for Christmas Eve, it was around 12:30 when he had gotten home and he was a drunken mess, literally climbing up the stairs staggering into the parlor. He sees Sherlock sitting in the darkness and he walks over to him and wraps his arms around his neck leaning down to his ear. “Whats wrong, Sherlock? It's officially Christmas, you should be in bed for tomorrow.”

“John, I'm fine but you are a drunken mess and need sleep.” Sherlock didn't move, trying to think of a way to apologize to Molly, although he didn't quite like Molly, he wasn't about to be a bloody jerk to her.

“Sherlock, I don't need sleep..I need you..I was jealous of Molly, she got to kiss your lips and here you are, thinking about her, and how to make things better..” John stands up letting go of Sherlock's neck and starting to stagger up the stairs. Sherlock sighs, “Go to bed, John.” He exasperated.

End of chapter 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although, a short chapter, a very love-filled one.


	3. Lingering Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was Christmas Day, John overslept, and was wondering about last night, what really happened? While Sherlock refuses to answer, Sherlock opens his gift from John and instantly falls in love all over again, with the gift as well as John.

John emerged from his bed, it was noon, had he really slept that late? He walked downstairs in his pyjamas, he expected to see Sherlock sitting in the same place he was last night, what had happened last night, all he knew was he went to bed pissed off and that was it, thankfully, had he said something to Sherlock and that's why he wasn't there? No, Sherlock never showed anger towards John.. He sighed and journeyed into the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee, he took a long drink when he realized it was Christmas Day and that's when he started choking, he nearly dropped his mug before calming the burning in his throat from the coffee, he was dribbling from the mouth and he rolled his eyes and wiped his mouth on a napkin. He set down the mug and walked into the parlor sitting in the same seat that Sherlock was in last night, he sat there pondering Sherlock, his slender face, his tall thin body, those lips that made his legs weak, he hummed softly closing his eyes, imagining those lips pressed against his, Sherlock's hands slowly removing John's shirt and pulling him into his bedroom. John was startled from his fantasy when he heard the front door shut in a rage from the wind. John stood up and walked towards the door frame leaning against it as he watches Sherlock climb the stairs in the three-steps-at-a-time way he did. Sherlock gaze comes up and meets John's, John smiled softly and walks back into the parlor.

“Sherlock, what happened last night? And with Molly..?”

 

Sherlock sighs, “Nothing, nothing happened at all, and Molly just forgave me, thankfully. I have enough people against me.” Sherlock pondered John's words, how could he actually want him? John was probably just in his drunken state and didn't know what he was mumbling and going on about, he wished it was true though. For John to want him, it would be a miracle, I mean he hated that Sherlock was his flatmate, why on earth would he ever consider liking Sherlock? Sherlock pushed the thought out of his mind and looked up at John who had a confused look on his face, “John, don't worry about it, it was nothing, are you hungry? I'm famished, I haven't eaten since a week ago.” Sherlock made a quick glance up to John and smirked.

 

John shook his head and walked out of the kitchen, “No, I'm quite fine, thank you, I'm going to get dressed and go out, I have some apologizing to do.” John walks upstairs and changes into one of those boring jumpers, this one was blue and had snowmen on it, he slid his jeans on and tied his shoes. While walking down the stairs he slides his jacket on and zips it up, he starts to leave and he yells to Sherlock, “Merry Christmas, Sherlock. It's under the tree..” and then John steps out of the door and tries to hail a taxi to go apologize to his girlfriend. He needed to explain, and quickly, before she changed her feelings and mind about him.

Sherlock walks to the tree and find a blue papered box under the bare tree, he bent down picking it up and examining the wrapping, his heart stops as he quickly tugs at the corners and opens up the paper, it was the new scarf he asked for, but that wasn't all. It was a small book of love affair poems and his eyes quickly glanced inside only to see the short, slanted, handwriting of John inside the cover, it read: _“I got you the scarf you asked for, but you love intricate poems, so, Merry Christmas, Sherlock. ~John”_ Sherlock's eyes read over the words and re-read until he couldn't see straight, he held the book close to his chest and inhales slowly exhaling quickly then inhaling slowly again, it was the smell of John on the scarf. Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed and he realized how idiotic he looked but he didn't care, he sat down the book on the side table and sat down in the chair beside it. He brought his legs to his chest and thought about John, _god_ , his eyes..he grinned happily and laid his head back. “Thank you, John, thank you.” Sherlock thought.

It was around 9 in the afternoon when John got back to the flat, Sherlock had started a fire and sat next to it on the floor, reading the poems in the book, he lifts his eyes when he hears John walk in, but his smile towards him quickly fades when he sees the scowl on John's face, John was murmuring under his breath, cursing his girlfriend with extreme language, he then sighs and pinches his nose bridge realizing how stupid this situation really is, indeed. Sherlock, smiles softly once more, pats the floor beside him, and sets a mug in the same spot, John looks down at him and reluctantly follows his deaf orders and sits down after picking up the mug of coffee. Sherlock then starts reading one of the poems in the book, “ _Darling, I love the way you smile,_

_But I hate the way you're so vile._

_I love your cascading, beautiful, looks,_

_And you pulled me with your eyes, just like hooks._

_But you've hurt my heart, and made me cry,_

_And I just want you to die..”_ Sherlock, rests his free hand on John's knee and lays his head on his shoulder, he continues the poem,

“ _You've made my heart tremble and shake,_

_Why won't you just stop to break,_

_Your own heart for once, it really hurts,_

_The way your words lurk,_

_In my pounding head._

_Darling, I want you dead.”_ John's eyes widen slightly as Sherlock's hand slowly moves up and down his thigh, his curly dark hair tickling his neck, John reached down and stopped his hand while he was still reading, John intertwines his fingers with Sherlock's, John's palm right over the outside of Sherlock's hand. Sherlock's smile widens and he lowers his voice, moving his head so his voice was right in his ear, and John could feel the hot breath just lingering there as Sherlock kept reading. Sherlock's nose brushed against John's ear when he whispered, he could smell coffee in his breath, his lips literally begging to be kissed, was this right? Before John could make a drastic decision, Sherlock, pulls away and stands up, shutting his books and setting it back on the table.

“Goodnight, John. Sleep well..” and just like that Sherlock was gone and John had something to dream about for sure.

 

 

End of Chapter 3.


	4. Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Sherlock confess to John? Does John reciprocate? What happens in the night of Spring?

John sat in that same spot for the longest time where Sherlock left him, not moving just remembering all the feelings and all of the touching and how amazing it felt to have Sherlock's breath on his neck, lingering in his ear. “Bliss”, John thought, it sent a warm touch down his spine and he soon got up, put out the fire, and walked upstairs to his own bedroom. He was hoping he would think about this forever, the way Sherlock lowered his voice to a whisper, it was brilliant, the way he made John feel, how he was wrapped around Sherlock's long finger and in the palm of his hand. He let out a relieved sigh and laid down in his bed and pulled the comforter over him and gracefully fell asleep having sweet dreams about Sherlock. _God,_ John thought, _those lips._

 

Sherlock sat on the sofa the next morning thinking about how he could make his move with John, how could he tell him that he thought about his eyes, and that wonderful smile, those hands? He sat there with a grin on his face and he finally came up with the best plan anyone could have ever thought of. Sherlock stood up and walked to John's door, he opened it slightly and slide his tall, slender, body inside shutting it ever so quietly, Sherlock knew exactly where and where not to step on that creaky old floor, and when he reached John's bed he slide in right next to him. He laid his head on his bicep, and laid there watching John's body inhale and exhale slowly and quietly. Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile emerged from his face and he laid there. No talking. No thinking. Just silent, breathtaking, John.

 

Soon, John woke up, he turned over and was faced with Sherlock, a little startled, John let this happen, he leaned closer into Sherlock and pushed the comforter over them both, he laid his head against Sherlock's chest and listened to his slow heart beat in his chest. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's body and rested his chin on top of John's head and they laid there for the longest time before either one of them spoke.

 

“Sherlock, what are you doing in my bed?” John smirked as the words rolled out of his mouth.

 

Sherlock rubbed his thumb back and forth over John's shoulder as he picked his words carefully, “John, just let it be, it's cold, we are keeping body heat, and this..this, John, is amazing.” Sherlock moved his chin and instead laid his cheek against the top of John's head, John had never been this close to Sherlock and he was right, it was amazing.

 

John brushed his lips against Sherlock's collarbone and stopped not quite kissing but pressing his mouth against him, he was warm and you could feel his heartbeat pick up as Sherlock's cheek started to flush and his eyes looked down at John, “ _Magical_.” was the only word running through both of their brains. Sherlock leans down slightly and lingers his lips near John's ear and-

 

Sherlock stood in the kitchen drinking coffee as he hears the familiar sound of the water starting in the shower, the sound of the pipes in the plumbing being so ever loud, he hated the sound but John was showering, he didn't mind. He just imagined John pulling off his shirt then pushing his pants off, Sherlock jumped when he felt the hot coffee spilling from his cup onto his shirt and down his pyjama pants. Sherlock slightly smirked and set down the mug, which was John's, might he add, and walked into the parlor picking up the poems book, he looks down remembering last night and his pulse picks up hearing the water turn off. Sherlock quickly sets down the book and walks upstairs and walks past the door as soon as John opens the door and the smile of John's face said it all, “ _maybe John does love him, then again, he would've pushed Sherlock out of his bed this morning and would've acted differently towards him when he said what he said..”_ Sherlock thought, it bounced around, he pondered and pondered, but shook his head, “ _Whatever, as long as John's happy and this continues, it'll be fine.”_ Sherlock's smile widened and then just like that his brain hit a switch and John was all that pondered his thoughts as he took his shower. _“John, wonderful John, that perfect, ex-military, strong man, he was so wonderful, amusing, and fantastic. John..”_

 

Time went on, and no more sensual acts of Sherlock had happened, actually, nothing really happened since after the morning Sherlock's breath against his ear, when the whole world stopped, when all that mattered was them..it was gone, but was it for the better? John sighed, he was sitting in the coffee shop, listening to his girlfriend rant about her miserable job, how her parents were wanting them to get married, where were her parents grand-kids, it was bloody awful, all he could think about was Sherlock, it was early spring, March, to be exact. And nothing had happened, apparently, Sherlock, spent time with Molly for Valentine's Day, and of course that broke his heart, he spent the entire next week ignoring Sherlock and spending his days in the pub. Ms. Hudson was beginning to worry, all the excessive going in and out of the front door, the silent hours, nothing new, and nothing old, just depressing silence. John sighed, and look over at her and shook his head, he stands up, “It's over.” He walks out quickly, he can hear her shouting as he walks out sliding his jacket on and crosses the street.

He needed to fix these things with Sherlock, it was killing him inside and it needed to be done, now or later. He sighs and takes the long walk towards the flat.

 

It was late, really late when John got home, Sherlock was happy when he looked up and saw John but his smile faded as John looked angered and somehow he knew that anger was towards him. _Fuck._

 

“Hey, John, what's wrong?” Sherlock said, standing to walk towards John.

 

“Don't ask a single fucking thing, Sherlock, what is happening between us?” John demanded.

 

“What do you mean?” Sherlock had this confused look on his face, right before John lets out a sigh and starts a long, angered story.

 

“Us, Sherlock. What is this, us? Here we are, we're supposed to be flatmates, but what was that in January?! Why were you in my bed, I'm tired of games, Sherlock! I'm tired of this, I need you, goddamnit, and you don't even care, I'm tired of holding back my feelings and acting like it's nothing when it is a whole lot more than what I've expected, you make me feel like I matter, thank you, and yet, you spent Valentine's Day, with Molly! Of all people, Sherlock, Molly, really?” John takes a breath and stares into Sherlock's empty eyes, he sighs and sheds his jacket, “Thanks, Sherlock.” he storms off, walking up the stairs and he slams his door shut, to get a point across.

 

“ _Great._ ” Thought, Sherlock. He runs his index finger and thumb over his forehead and sighs, he sits down and waits for things to settle. About an hour later, Sherlock slowly creaks up to John's room, he opens the door, and slowly shuts it behind him. John wasn't asleep, he was just unthoughtfully pissed. Sherlock climbs into his bed, he looks down at John and closes his eyes, “John, I need you, I could never get myself to tell you, I need you, John, you make my world, I only wake up because I know your here with me, I spent Valentine's Day with Molly because you were still with your girlfriend, it made me so angry, I couldn't stand you so I thought maybe if I made a relationship out of something, I'd feel better, but that day, I realized, John...I love you.”

 

John's mouth gapes open and he turns over to look at Sherlock, his eyes fixated on his, he couldn't look away, John opens his mouth to say something but before he could get the words out, Sherlock was pressing his lips hard against his, “ _Those lip, finally.._ ” John mind and pulse stops for a whole 5 seconds before he pulls Sherlock closer to him and opens his mouth, giving Sherlock the hint to not let go.

 

“Sherlock..” Kiss.

“I-” Kiss.

“Love-” Kiss.

“You..” Kiss. But then it deepens, Sherlock leans back and he gets on top of him, his knees resting beside John's thighs, Sherlock leans down and John pushes his dark curls out of his face and slowly kisses his lips again. Increasing in friction, both of their dreams, they had came true tonight, Sherlock deepens it, and takes control, he opens his mouth letting John in. After a few moments they were both out of breath from the intensity and passion from the kiss. Sherlock lays back, pulls John on top of him, intertwines his fingers with his, and presses his lips against John's neck. “Don't leave..”

 

“Sherlock, I wouldn't for the world..” John exasperated, still out of breath, “I love you.”

 

“John..I love you too..” Sherlock smiled into John's neck and closed his eyes.

 

 

_Bliss._

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 4.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you like me to continue? If so, please tell me, thank you.


	5. Hot Summer Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a hot summer, and it bled into the night, getting humid by the minute, Sherlock and John stay in Sherlock's room, but do they really sleep?

Sherlock wakes up before John, as always, he opens his eyes and yawns slightly, John was still on top of him, he had his head on Sherlock's chest, listening to his heartbeat had made him fall asleep, and he was moving up and down with every breath Sherlock took. He looks down at him then at their hands, Sherlock starts to rub his thumb back and forth over John's hand, he smiles, he was happy.. John wakes up some time later and he slowly opens his eyes, trying to wake up, he had slept peacefully for once. John looks up and sees Sherlock laying underneath him, he smirks, “Pinch me, Sherlock,”

 

“Why?”, Sherlock says as he reaches slowly down pinching John's arse playfully.

 

“Because, I was hoping this wasn't a dream..” John laughs and leans up kissing Sherlock, and he so gladly kisses back, letting John take control of the kiss, but, surprised, John pulls away before anything can happen. He sits up, and straddles Sherlock's lap, leaning down slightly, “I thought I'd give you a break..”, John says as he holds Sherlock's arms, kissing his collarbone, his mouth flies open and he closes his eyes, John quickly moves his hands up to his and entangles his with Sherlock's, holding him down still. John kisses up to his neck and sucks softly as he moves up and meets Sherlock's jawline, Sherlock was in pure ecstasy. John moves behind his ear and kisses softly, “Sherlock, I love you..”

 

He lets go of John's hands and wraps them around his mid-section, pulling him down onto him, Sherlock smiles, “I love you, John..” He kisses John's temple and then his forehead before pressing his against John's. “ _John, I need you, I love you, I want you, I devour you, I obsess over you. Don't leave me.”,_ Sherlock thought, he smiled and closes his eyes.

 

John and Sherlock spend the next few weeks so entangled in themselves, not caring about the world, it's their time to be happy and they were gladly taking control of it. It was turning to summer and it was most definitely getting hot and humid outside. Sherlock lays on the floor the fan above him not doing anything, he was dressed in a black, silk, button up, he had slick dark dress pants on, he had taken his shoes off after coming back to the flat after going to Lestrade's office, he was sweating profusely and it was starting to anger Sherlock. Before he could start throwing things in anger, John comes home and he sets some bags on the kitchen table, he opens one bag and throws a pack of cigarettes to him and opens a beer, he takes a sip and he toes off his shoes, “Bloody fuck, it's hot.” he walks to Sherlock and sits beside him on the floor, Sherlock lights a cigarette and takes a small inhale nodding as he blows out the smoke, John looks over at Sherlock and he smirks. John was sitting beside Sherlock but was facing the other direction, he takes a small sip of beer and he leans over kissing Sherlock, he smiles into John's lips and he starts to unbutton Sherlock's shirt with one hand, the other resting on his neck.

 

“John...” Sherlock says in between a kiss switch by John who was kissing his jawline now as he kept unbuttoning his shirt until he got down to the last button, he looked up at Sherlock and smiled. He moved over sitting on his lap, Sherlock's eyes widened and his mouth gaped open, he couldn't believe how turned on he was getting, he tried to readjust so John wouldn't notice but it was hopeless. John pushed Sherlock's shirt off and he kissed Sherlock's pale, muscular, arms then chest exploring a part of Sherlock he never thought he would. Sherlock is on the verge of just devouring John. John stands up and smirks, “You looked warm, I thought maybe you should cool down, seems I made it worse.”, he smiles and goes into the kitchen to put up groceries, Sherlock leans back onto the floor and tries to calm his racing pulse and hide his raging erection. He inhales deeply onto the cigarette after he relights it. He doesn't even bother to pull his shirt back on, “ _God_ ,” He thought, “ _If John is like this now, how can I get him into bed, I need him..Think Sherlock, think_...” Sherlock's mind kept racing and nothing was coming up, he was incapable of loving, incapable of making John want him, incapable of being appeasing to the eye, he sighs and clenches his fists at his sides. “ _How?_ ” He thought, “ _How was John toying, teasing him, why was he? Why did he want to torture me, my god, did he torutre me.._ ” 

 

Sherlock laid there, sometimes with John, all day, on the floor, when it was time to go to bed and all Sherlock was thinking about was making himself appealing to John, he stood up and looked at John as he was about to go to his room, “John, would you like to stay in my room with me tonight? It's always colder in there, it'd be nice..” Sherlock looks down rubbing the back of his neck as he says this.

 

John smiled, “Of course, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock smiled shyly and walked into his room while John changed and was wearing a white tee shirt with his boxers, we walks into Sherlock's room and Sherlock is pulling on his pyjama pants, he had no shirt, and John caught himself with his mouth open before Sherlock turned around. Sherlock smiled and climbed into bed, John right after him, the covers were left off, and the window was left open. Sherlock and John got comfortable in a spooning position, Sherlock behind John, Sherlock rested his arm over John's ribs and John covered Sherlock's hand with both of his. Sherlock's leg was over both of John's and Sherlock's mouth nuzzled the nape of John's neck. He slowly kissed his neck and started feeling overprotective of the ex-military doctor. Sherlock smiled into his flesh and bit softly and playfully, John chuckled and pushed himself back into Sherlock wanting him closer, Sherlock smiles and rests his lips near John's ear, he lowers to a soft whisper and John can feel his breath on his ear and it made a shiver go down his spine, “John..I love you..I would die without you, I'm so afraid to let loose that you find me horriblly unattractive and lose interest in me.” Sherlock finally said with a sigh. “I can't lose you.”

 

John smiled and bit his lower lip, “You won't lose me..I love you too much, and I most definitely need you.”

 

Sherlock kissed his neck and settled his chin where he kissed and now he was more in love with John than before.

 

“ _I don't just want him, I desperately need him, I will wait, most indefinitely, John's worth the wait, I just wish he wouldn't torture me..”_ That put a smirk on Sherlock's face as he fell asleep, cuddling and holding onto John. 

 

 

“ _I need you, John..”_

 

 

End of Chapter 5.

 


	6. Is this really the end, Sherlock?

It had been sometime after there whole nigth together, and all Sherlock could do was ravish John's body, basically mauling him with every touch, every pushful force as they laid in bed, or held hands, or even kissed, he was so overprotective and needy that he felt he was mentally pushing John away..but, John didn't mind the mauling, he didn't mind the oushing, John was enduring it, because he was a softie, and he loved Sherlock, and you're supposed to comprimise with your lover. And John, really wanted Sherlock with every painful moan and forceful push he took. God, the look on Sherlock's face when he orgasmed while they were bed and just touching and exploring and actually loving. H eloved that look, that face, to be more specific, and now he wanted Sherlock in his bed more than ever.

Sherlock was desperate, he whimpered, and whinned, and begged, but it wasn't good enough, he had to be foreceful now, it was awful the way he pushed John around, but it seemed to turn John on, “ _mmm, John...turned on, fuck.”_ Sherlock's mind wandered as he tightened his grip on his partner, he moaned unexpectedly and Sherlock turned John over, and got ontop of him, he looked at John, “Fuck. Now. Please.” Sherlock looked beggingly into John's eyes and John was the foreful one now as he ripped Sherlock's shirt off, “ _Jesus..”_ Sherlock definitely wasn't about to hold back, he tugs as John's shirt and his hands wander downward, he looks up at John and he--

 

 

John, smirks as he shuts his laptop, he thought about how devilish he was being by writing such monstrosities. He looks over at the empty sofa where Sherlock recently was, he wasn't in love with John, he wasn't in love at all, he loved Sherlock, but why wasn't he Sherlock's. John sets down his laptop, he had just written the best sex scene about him and Sherlock and yet no one knew about it.

 

John sighs, and he looks down at his hands with despair.

 

“Sherlock...” He exasperated.

 

“I need you, John..” Sherlock said behind him. He was out of breath and flustered, “I. Need. You. John.”

 

“I need you, Sherlock..” John scuffled out in panic, “I. Need. You. Sherlock.”

 

A smile crept over Sherlock's face, “ _And that, was the start of a magical experience.”_ John though, as his naked body laid next to a sleeping, naked, Sherlock, “ _Magical, indeed.”_

 

 

 

Fin.

 


End file.
